


Pack Up Your Light

by runsinthefamily



Series: Lonely Souls [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brief Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:24:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: Dean is seventeen when he drops out of school.





	Pack Up Your Light

On Wednesday, Sammy comes home from school with a bloody nose.

"Home," at the moment, is a shitty per-week suite in a rooming motel that, for once, has a semi-functional oven instead of just a hot plate, and Dean had gone out to buy actual groceries, visions of cheeseburger casserole dancing in his head. So he isn't there when Sammy gets back, tissues still wadded up in his nostrils, and gives John the letter requesting that he come in to discuss "the violent incident." He can imagine how it went, though, Sam being as shitty as only a thirteen year old can manage, staring John dead in the eye and handing over the principle's letter as if Dean hadn't, specifically and clearly, told Sammy that all the school shit was supposed to go through him first.

When he does get home, plastic bags filled with ground beef and cheddar and milk and pasta and also broccoli because Sammy is weirdly concerned with the food pyramid, John is all thunderclouds and shouting, and Sammy is in the bathroom, pulling kleenex out of his nose and glaring at the mirror.

"You," said John, wheeling on Dean the minute he steps through the door. "What the hell, I go away for three days and you lose all discipline? The two of you are supposed to stay under the radar." He shook the principle's note in Dean's face. "Fighting. Mouthing off to his teacher. What if I hadn't been here, huh? What then?"

Dean put the groceries down and took the letter.   _... two other students ... broken finger ... disrespectful language ..._

"Now I gotta go in there and waste time blowing smoke up the ass of some middle aged pencil pusher. There's a ghoul waiting over in the next county that ain't gonna behead itself." John shouted the last part into the bathroom. 

"I was doing the right thing!" Sammy shouted back, somewhat nasally.

"Okay," said Dean. "Okay, let's just - Sammy, lemme take a look at that nose."

John took him by the arm as he went to walk by, fingers digging in, and shook him once, hard. "You need to make him understand. This isn't a damn game. We all need to have some self-control." He let go, grabbed the keys off the table, and slammed out of the room.

Sammy gave him a flat look as he came into the bathroom and resumed throwing bits of bloody paper in the sink. "Someone was being bullied," he said. 

"Uh huh," said Dean, and took Sammy's chin, tilting his face so he could see it clearly.

"Two older kids, ow, were kicking the snot outta him behind the, ow, gym."

"And you just had to step in."

"It wasn't the first time!" Sammy reared his head away, irate. "He's spent like, the last month with bruises and no one does anything!"

Dean wet a facecloth and wiped under Sammy's nose. "Broke someone's finger, huh?"

Sammy subsided. "Not on purpose."

"Okay, well. We can run the Good Samaritan angle. But you gotta promise not to do it again," Dean said. Sammy swelled up, indignant, and Dean waved a finger. "On school property," he added. He resumed wiping blood off Sam's lip. "Two of them, huh? Not bad, Sammy."

"My name is Sam," said Sammy.

"You gotta keep it under the radar," said Dean. "The last thing we need is someone getting too interested in us. You want social services sticking their noses in? You could get taken away."

"Bet he'd prefer that," said Sammy, picking at the edge of the sink where the silicone seal was peeling.

"Dad yells because he needs you to listen," Dean said. 

“He yells because he’s a dick,” said Sammy.

“Hey,” said Dean, and shook Sammy a little. “He’s worried, okay? He’s got a lot to carry and we gotta help him out.”

Sammy looked mutinous. “Does he have to go to the meeting? Can it be you?”

“We’ll all go,” said Dean. “It’ll be fine.”

***

It was not fine. Principle Manning, a short, pudgy, balding man who exuded calm authority, made Dean wait in the outer office. It was less than five minutes before the shouting started.

When John came out, Sammy in tow, his face was dark as a midnight stakeout. Dean looked at Sammy, who was near tears, at Manning, who stood in the doorway of his office looking stern yet concerned, and then had to run to catch up with John.

“Suspended,” said John, in the car on the way back to the motel. Dean hunched in the back seat, dethroned from shotgun to give John better shouting access to Sammy. “You didn’t tell me you put one of them in the goddamn hospital.”

“It was a broken finger,” Dean tried, but John rode right over him.

“Suspended for a week, and who’s gonna be responsible for you? I can’t put off this hunt, Sam. Are you happy now?”

“I didn’t want to be suspended!” Sammy kicked the doorframe. “We were getting to geometric transformations, now I’m going to be behind!”

“You should have thought about that before you stuck your finger-breaking nose in where it didn’t belong! This is serious, Sam, and you’re thinking about your geology homework?”

“God, you’re stupid,” said Sammy. “It’s _math_.”

Dean winced.

John’s hand descended like God’s wrath. The force of the impact knocked Sammy’s head against the car window.

“You watch your mouth,” said John, his voice gone low and implacable.

Sammy clutched his ear and said nothing.

“I’ll stay home,” said Dean. “It’s fine. I wasn’t – I’ll stay home.”

“And get the school on my ass about you, as well as your brother? Where’s your fucking head, Dean?”

“We’re in Illinois,” said Dean. “You only gotta be seventeen. It’s not like any of my teachers are gonna fight me on it.”

John looked in the rearview. “You been thinking about this.”

Dean met his gaze. “Yessir. What’s school gonna teach me?” he asked and summoned up his cockiest grin. “I’ll write the GED or whatever, no big deal.”

Sammy was staring at him with big, wet eyes.

“If you think it’s a good idea,” Dean added.

There was a brief silence in the car and then John nodded, once. “Don’t think this gets you out of work, boy,” he said. “You’ll have time for real study, now.”

***

“I’m telling Bobby.”

Sammy stood in the doorway of the bathroom, skinny arms folded across his chest, watching Dean shave.

“Yeah?” asked Dean. “So what?”

“He’s gonna freaking lose it on you, is what,” said Sammy. “He’s gonna kick your ass.”

Dean set his jaw. “I’m getting my GED,” Dean said. “It’s not like I’m a goddamn genius, high school was about as good as I was ever gonna do.”

“Liar,” said Sammy. “Liar, you got a B+ on that English essay you wrote.”

“What –ow!” Dean put a finger to the nick he’d just given himself. “How did you know about that, you little sneak?”

“You kept it!” Sammy was red in the face. “You kept it for like a month, because you were proud. You don’t want to quit school, you’re just doing it because –“

“I was always gonna quit school!” Dean slammed his razor down.

“Liar!” Sammy took a step into the bathroom. “You got those tech college pamphlets, you –“

“Bobby got those, okay, that wasn’t – I knew that wasn’t gonna happen.” Dean gripped the edge of the counter.

“You could, though.” Sammy took another step. “I mean, even if you do the GED, you could still –“

“Fuckin’ drop it, Sammy!” Dean rounded on him. “Just, please. Drop it.”

“I don’t want you to do this,” said Sammy, raw and trembling.

“This ain’t on you,” said Dean. “Hey. Hey.” He reached out and reeled the kid in. Sammy resisted for a moment and then gave in, resting his hot face against Dean’s shoulder. Fuck, he was getting tall. “It’ll be okay,” Dean said.

“I’m not gonna quit,” said Sammy, muffled.

“Damn right,” said Dean. “Stuff that giant brain. Be the smartest hunter ever lived.”

“Dean,” said Sammy, hesitantly. “What if I –“

“What?” asked Dean after a moment.

“Nothing,” said Sammy.

“Wanna help me research ghouls? Dad wants me reciting feeding habits and weaknesses back and forwards by the time he gets back.”

Sammy pushed away and wrinkled his nose. “I wanna make sure I’m staying caught up in Social Studies,” he said.

Dean knocked his knuckles on Sammy’s head, being careful to stay away from the purple bruise down the right side of his forehead. “You got room for both.”

“Quit it,” Sammy swung at him, reluctantly smiling.

“Quit it,” Dean mocked, tapping him lightly on the right shoulder, then the left, then in the centre of his chest while Sammy tried, too slow, to defend himself. “Twit it, twit it.”

“Dean!”

“Want cheeseburger casserole tonight?” Dean asked, relenting.

Sammy’s face lit up. “Yeah! Can we have broccoli, too? I don’t think I’m getting enough vitamins.”

“Yeah, you can have broccoli, you fucking nerd,” said Dean. He hauled the stupid vegetable out of the tiny fridge and waved it at Sammy, who grinned. Dean sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes to heaven.

“The things I do for you,” he said.


End file.
